


scared of storms (so we kiss in the night)

by immortalflowers



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Idols, First Kiss, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Storms, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i have neVER written anything softer than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalflowers/pseuds/immortalflowers
Summary: Hidden from the world like that: in the safe space made by Jongho’s arms around his waist, shrouded in the thick hotel comforter that smells like nothing in particular, but distinctly clean, Wooyoung’s resolve breaks.He’s done playing games.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 20
Kudos: 119





	scared of storms (so we kiss in the night)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sangiebyheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangiebyheart/gifts).



> for pita because they are the loveliest person ever <3 enjoy!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yoongsicle)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/immortalflowers)
> 
> p.s. if you leave a comment, come claim your free cat picture in my dms

Wooyoung isn’t really,  _ truly  _ scared of storms. 

But there are only so many things he can make up that will lead him into Jongho’s bed (for purely innocent reasons… most of the time).

To be quite honest, he doesn’t even remember how it became public knowledge (as public as eight men living together can get) that Wooyoung was afraid of storms. He guesses he was discussing  _ seduction tactics _ with one member or another, and a certain someone overheard them.

That said, at the first show of thunder and lightning (the kind that doesn’t even warrant plugging out all the household appliances), he can always be found in Jongho’s bed. Most of the time, Jongho doesn’t question it, though Wooyoung gets long side glances from San and Yeosang when making the trip through the dorm and into Jongho’s room.

Since they’re on tour, he hasn’t had the time to revise more elaborate plans for the Make Jongho Fall In Love With Wooyoung plan, but the strong breeze that started picking up just after their rehearsal and the angry gray clouds that came rolling in, promising a heavy shower, might just give him the perfect chance to finally do something about this puppy-crush.

Just as he’s about to turn on the hotel hairdryer, there’s a knock on his door. It’s probably a manager or Mingi coming to borrow his cold cream because he forgot to bring his own.

He’s met with a surprise when he opens the door, though. Jongho stands in the doorway, his eyes filled with all intensity of a plump marshmallow, and Wooyoung wants to eat him.

He’s carrying a plushie and wearing a sweater that’s at least a size bigger, making him look more cuddly than usual. Like a teddy bear.

“Hey,” Jongho mumbles and pushes past Wooyoung into his room.  _ This is normal _ , Wooyoung thinks.

What’s not normal, or more precisely what is unusual, is the look in Jongho’s eyes. There’s a certain glint to them. Determination, he thinks. Or despair, resignation. 

Eyes are the window to the soul. Wooyoung looks away.

“Can I help you?” he asks, before turning the hairdryer on and effectively muffling Jongho’s answer. Call him a coward, but it’s not the kind of day when he can accept rejection. 

Some things are better left unfinished, so maybe Wooyoung should be satisfied with their relationship at this point - a paradox where they’re simultaneously nothing and everything to each other.

Except that he is Wooyoung, loud and annoying, but most importantly blunt to the point. 

“Are you staying over tonight?” he asks in-between drying his hair and brushing it.

“Let me help you,” Jongho says instead, taking the brush from his hand after seeing the way Wooyoung is struggling to pull it through his hair. It has gotten longer in the past few months, and Jongho has hands of gold, so he lets him.

There’s nothing quite as intimate as having someone play with your hair, but this must be a hundred times more. He sits on the floor enclosed by Jongho’s thighs and tries not to let his mind wander on the wings of a butterfly. 

Wooyoung can feel the dryness of his bones ignite quickly like gasoline every time Jongho cards his fingers through his still-wet hair.

Despite the rain, he’s going to catch on fire.

“Well?” Wooyoung asks once more in the tone that indicates he expects a real answer this time, no deflections.

“Well what?” 

What else did Wooyoung expect, honestly, because the two of them are only two stubborn idiots. Alright, he will indulge Jongho in his game for a few more hours, Wooyoung acquiesces privately, but no more.

“You’ll stay with me, right?” he adds an annoying amount of sweetness to his voice. 

Jongho pulls the brush much harder than necessary through a tangle, and Wooyoung yelps. “Keep still,” Jongho clicks his tongue, “that’s why I’m here, aren’t I?” he answers. 

“Guess so,” Wooyoung mumbles, silently pleased with himself.

Jongho starts telling him about the game he and Mingi are currently playing when the dryer isn’t on. Maybe to fill in the stifling silence, or to distract, but Wooyung welcomes it and fills his end of the silence with hmms and ahhs. 

They move to bed soon after, Wooyoung’s hair fluffy and soft under Jongho’s care and his heart much the same.

Hidden from the world like that: in the safe space made by Jongho’s arms around his waist, shrouded in the thick hotel comforter that smells like nothing in particular, but distinctly  _ clean, _ Wooyoung’s resolve breaks. He’s done playing games.

“Jongho,” he whispers, because they are both pretending, and the strong pitter-patter of rain isn’t doing anything to hide how fast Jongho’s heart is beating as if it wants to jump out of his chest. 

Wooyoung feels it all: the heartbeat, the tenderness with which he is being held, the bated breath caught in Jongho’s lungs. He wants to let it go, breathe softly again, make his heart flutter without all the nervousness.

“You know I like you?” Wooyoung asks, and Jongho lets the breath out, tickling the back of his neck.

“Yeah, hyung, I like you too,” Jongho answers, rubs up and down the expanse of Wooyoung’s waist and thigh, his hand big enough to engulf much of his stomach when Jongho leaves it gently to lay back on his waist.

Wooyoung wants to laugh. Is he really that oblivious? On one hand, it’s cute, but on the other, he is so so tired of pretending.

It’s much easier to feign he’s talking to nothing - to the rain, and whoever or whatever is outside the window when he says: “I mean, I like you more than just friends. More than teammates.” He wants the rain to wash his fear away, for the rumbling thunder to drown out his voice.

“Oh,” Jongho’s voice breaks out of his chest, sweet as a hummingbird. Wooyoung can’t tell if it’s surprised, disgusted, delighted, or anything else of the sort. He doesn’t want to turn around.

Wooyoung is still living on the high of his confession to properly feel what Jongho’s hands are doing, and before he even knows it, he’s on his back with Jongho propped up next to him. 

“Hyung,” he whispers like he too is afraid if he speaks louder the reality will catch up with them, or simply afraid to break the sanctity of the moment. His eyes are so kind and Wooyoung hopes this isn’t just something he’s seeing because he wants it to be true. 

It’s scary, but suddenly, Jongho is lowering his lips onto Wooyoung’s own, framing his face with his right hand. 

They gasp in unison and Jongho pulls away, his hot breath smelling like toothpaste and something sugary and sweet.

Wooyoung opens his mouth, about to say how good it feels, how they should have started doing this earlier, how they are both fools, how the world is cruel for hating love, but Jongho effectively shuts him up by covering Wooyoung’s lips with his own.

And right now, Wooyoung thinks love is sweet minty kisses in a random hotel in Europe, in a random bed, on a random night - distinct only for its shower of strong rain in the late summer nearing autumn.

So he doesn’t say anything, only closes his eyes and lets the emotions flood him, lets Jongho’s lips cover his own in more hot, searing kisses.

They stop at wandering hands, at Jongho’s knee pressed too close to Wooyoung’s groin to be even remotely innocent. The future is uncertain, but deserving of a mature discussion when they are both a little more awake, a little less worked up.

“Were you ever even afraid of storms?” Jongho asks, and Wooyoung laughs, hearty and full. Emotions bubbling in his chest like he’s fighting the sea to reach the surface.


End file.
